o c c u p a n t n a m e: Octavia Aranea Spintula a g e:Four hundred years old (appears twenty-five) g e n d e r:Female s e x u a l i t y: Bisexual (open to both sexes)
s p e c i e s: Jorogumo a b i l i t i e s: - Spinning (spider silk) - Creating cocoons (for prey) - Poison (in her fangs) for immobilizing her prey - Spider senses - Climbing walls - Luring prey via toxic pheromones
o c c u p a t i o n: Fashion designer; makes and sells her clothing in her small store, "Devious Designs." All clothing is made by hand from her own spider silk, causing her brand to be called, "Silk Threads."
l i k e s: ❤ Anything with fabric: designing, weaving, sewing, etc. ❤ Night ❤ Blood ❤ Gothic fashion
d i s l i k e s: ✕ Humans ✕ Insults ✕ Wounds ✕ Her death p e r s o n a l i t y: Octavia has never had a soft spot in her heart for humans. Reasons for that mainly stem from her past, although some of it is because she feeds from them. Secretly, she hates them with a passion, but she would never admit this. As a result, Octavia can be quite the recluse. However, she does frequently enjoy the company of other supernatural beings. Octavia will be nothing but well-mannered to people. even to the beings she despises. Depending on her mood (and the person), Octavia can either be kind or cruel. When she is kind, she can be very, very sweet. When she is cruel, she can be extremely dangerous. She will not hesitate to kill if something or someone threatens her. Most of the time, Octavia is withdrawn. She is used to having been alone for most of the time, starting when she was a small child. She does not mind the company of people, but she does not also mind complete solitude. Though, Octavia can sometimes come off as cold and uncaring, because she is not used to being around people.
r o o m n u m b e rA6 b i o g r a p h y:Four centuries ago, Octavia was born in a mysterious land across the sea. In those days, she went by another name: Kumo. She had no father and only her mother, who was also a jorogumo. Her mother had devoured her father after mating with him, such is the custom of the jorogumo species. For a year, the mother and daughter spent time together. The mother taught her daughter various skills to survive in the normal human world. Octavia only knew her mother a short time before the woman died. It is not long after a jorogumo gives birth that she dies, much like their spider kin. From then on, Octavia was left to fend for herself. Though she was a child, she rapidly matured into her adult form. She did not know much of her heritage, but many of the things she learned were instinctual. Through a series of events, she eventually crossed the sea into the Western world. Once there, she renamed herself to fit into the times. Octavia has been there ever since.
Evoblack
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Evoblack
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Posted: Thu Apr 24, 2014 4:06 pm
myonlynameistheoneiwasgivenPetra Vandergast myonlynameistheoneiwasgivenandilikeit"My adventure lies in the green yonder."
It was strange that, as well-learned as Petra was, she had hardly ventured out into the world. Most of that had been due to her father. He was a stubborn one, and he could get his way when he really wanted. Most of the time, Peter Vandergast was swayed by the good nature, sense, and sweetness of his wife. Though Peter liked to believe otherwise, Karia Vandergast was truly the one whose decisions mattered the most in the household. She was a woman, a very admirable woman, who had been through much to get where she was in life. Her father had been a blacksmith himself. His wife had died giving birth to Karia, and Karia's father was too old to marry again. At first, her father had been distraught that Karia had not been a boy. However, his view changed very quickly once he realized the resourcefulness of his young daughter. After that, he believed her equal to any boy. So, he taught Karia masculine trades, including blacksmithing. Their female neighbors taught Karia feminine trades. Thus, Karia came out knowing a balance of knowledge. Soon after Karia's twelfth birthday, her father died and Karia had to fend for herself. When her village encountered a drought, she moved across the country into a city. From there, she set up an apprenticeship with a the local blacksmith. After her education, she went into business for herself. Peter, a fiery young man, married young Karia and they lived together, but it was very reluctant. Eventually, Karia asserted herself and convinced Peter to continue with her blacksmithing. However, it had been by way of Peter's stubbornness that Petra had not gotten to see the world until then. So, she was satisfied just by hearing her mother's stories of her travels and her education.
Petra was glad to be out in the world. Her light blue eyes danced around the festival, taking in all the sights. Everything was really quite amazing and breathtaking. The contortionists, the fire-breathers, the jugglers...they were people she never would have been allowed to see in the circuses that rolled through her city. Here they were amazing and certainly not as demonic as her father made them out to be. If anything, they were simply people enjoying their work and profiting from it, no different from any other vendor. Petra slipped out a coin from her purse, which was buried in her bosom (the best hiding place for a woman, if one was well-enough endowed), and threw it in the direction of a juggler. He slipped it into his pocket and comically saluted Petra in thanks. Softly, the girl laughed to herself and continued moving with her group.
"So this is a human festival," observed the elf. "I must say, you humans have a different way of celebrating things."
At this, Petra had to truly look around at her fellow humans. What she saw incited in her deep disgust. Many of the people, mostly the men, were drinking themselves into a fine frenzy. Some were even slobbering or sleeping in plates of unfinished food. "I'm afraid I've never encountered...such displays." She grimaced. "I believe I prefer how your kind celebrates, Sir Elf, with songs and music. This is...unsavory."
Turning her face away, she instead looked upon the handsome elf. At last, she knew his name: Eldrin. She smiled sweetly, saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Eldrin. You have a very nice name." And very unique too. Many boys at home did not have as nice names as Eldrin. He smiled at her, quite handsomely, and she smiled even wider in return. Unfortunately, hustle and bustle broke their exchange and drew them to look in its direction.
myonlynameistheoneiwasgivenPetra Vandergast myonlynameistheoneiwasgivenandilikeit"My adventure lies in the green yonder."
As she observed the area, she watched her fellow humans scurry to safety. With them were elves who rushed back to their caravans. Petra looked down at her hands and observed her sword, which was coated in dark red blood. The young woman's eyes dilated as she took in the puddle of blood that continuously grew underneath the she-elf's body. The adrenaline rush, which had served to fuel her actions and numb her mind, washed away from her. Awkwardly, she stumbled back from the body. The morality from only moments before came back within a wash of horror. She had killed a person. She had killed a person, and they would never return. The silence only perturbed that thought. Tears threatened eyes and a few even dared to crawl down her cheeks. As she reflected upon her horrid action, something black out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. Instantly, her head snapped up at the movement. She turned her full attention to where it came from, which was the well. Before, the well had appeared perfectly normal; now a black fog was oozing from its depths. The fog was not just black, but it could not be seen through. Unlike real fog, where one could look through it and see the ground, for this one it was impossible. The black fog appeared to have a life all its own. No wind moved it. It appeared to crawl and scrape along the ground, rolling along quickly and fervently. Petra's deeper instincts told her that this fog was strange and that she should run. Swallowing hard, Petra quickly turned tail and ran.
Again, the adrenaline rushed through her system. It created a wonderful high that numbed her fear, only heightening her obvious desire to be away from the festival. All the time, Petra wondered what happened to the dead bodies. However, she dared not looked backwards at the black fog. She did not know how that would make her feel. She was afraid to feel any more fear in that moment. She simply wanted to escape from all of it. Petra's mind wandered to all the other unsuspecting humans and elves, who had come here just as she had for fun and enjoyment. Sorrow, regret, and guilt weighed down her heart. All those beings, human and elf...what would the black fog do to them? Petra could not fathom the answer, for she truly did not know. Instead, she continued running. A few moments later, she heard a low moan following close on her heels. She turned her head and observed another elf, this time male, running close behind her. She looked closely at him and saw that his skin was deadly pale gray and his eyes were empty orbs that held no mercy or empathy. What was once alive was nearly perfectly dead. Behind him the black fog was quickly gaining ground. Petra thought of running faster, and did, but the male elf only gained more ground. Instantly, she knew that it would be futile to try to outrun the male elf. So, she ground to a halt and, sword in hand, whipped around and easily sliced off his head. The headless corpse sank to its knees, head tumbling off into the grass. The black fog moved faster and faster until it caught up to the corpse. Suddenly, the fog drew the corpse into itself, where it completely disappeared. Gasping, Petra tripped over her feet and stumbled back. Therein she heard a familiar voice call her name. The young woman glanced around to see Eldrin heading her way. He grasped her sword-less hand and pulled her away from the black fog.
"We need to leave!" he said urgently. "Quickly, Pyrah is waiting. She's in her true form so do not be frightened."
Nodding fervently, Petra caught up with Eldrin as they jogged away from the well and the black fog. She held on tightly to his hand; a very deep part of her did not want to be lost in the dreadful black fog. So, she hung onto his hand for dear life. As she ran, she heard a terrible screaming and moaning, simultaneously ringing throughout the festival. It took her all but a few moments to register that it came from behind them. It was the black fog! She had not been listening carefully or had blocked any sense of noise out. The black fog was crawling after them, moaning something terrible. Petra could not understand, for the language it spoke seemed to be (from what she heard) the Elven language. However, the words and tone with which it spoke were so bone-chilling that she was nearly sure that the words were not Elvish, but another language entirely. The Elvish language was filled with warmth and life when spoken; these words were full of ice and death.
From behind a tent appeared two evil-looking figures. She observed Eldrin tightly grasp his quarterstaff, a marvelous weapon, and run forward. Easily, Petra followed Eldrin's movements. She too grasped her sword tightly in her hand and swiped and stabbed at the figures with her own sword.
Company: Eldrin and Pyrah
Location: Heart of the festival; leaving the festival
Name:Sancha Willow Carlisle Age:Thirty Vehicle:Motocycle Height:6"0 Gender:Female Sexuality:Lesbian Race:Human; Mexican-American Weapons:A pocketknife in her coat; a dagger up her sleeve; and a colt in her back pocket. Likes:Her weapons, rock & metal music, girls, and a good beer. Dislikes:Monsters, doubt, losing confidence, and the morning. Bio:Hunting is not something Sancha does; it runs in her blood. Sancha traces her roots (from various sides) to Europe and to Central and South America. Both sides were avid protectors of the people and hunters of the supernatural. As time passed, her family kept secret their hunting. It became done in the dead of night, when the supernatural came out to cause mischief. As for Sancha, she was the first-born female from her family in the longest time. Her predecessors had been mainly male, an unexplained phenomenon only nature could explain. Sancha was born to a mother and a father, Carlita Cortez and John Carlisle, who had four other sons. On the outside, the family appeared normal; Carlita worked as a counselor to the local high school. John worked as a mechanic at the local body shop. Under cover of night and the nearby woods, John and Carlita taught their children to bear weapons, throw knives, basic martial arts and self-dense, and hunting dark things.
At fifteen, Sancha came of age and went on her first hunt. It was of a vampire that had been killing humans in a nearby town. She, her brothers, and her father tracked the vampires back to their nests. During this, she was taught to recognize the clues supernatural creatures left behind. In the house, it was silent; Sancha was warned to be careful. As she separated from her brothers to hunt, Sancha was taken by surprise by a vampire. Her quick instincts snapped into play and she slipped her knife from up her sleeve into her right hand. The vampire attempted to restrain her, but Sancha whipped the knife across his throat and, with great strength, decapitated the beast. Ever since, Sancha found a thrill in killing monsters.
At twenty-one, Sancha fell in love for the first time, with a girl named Sandy. They met each other at a local bar, where Sancha was taken by her brother to taste her first beer. She was sitting there across the way, brown skin glistening and smile sweet and sensitive. Sancha introduced herself to the beautiful girl and began dating her. After a month, they realized that they truly cared for each other. Alas, it was not meant to be. While on a date, a demon (recognizing Sancha from a recent hunt) possessed Sandy and murdered the girl in spite. Since then, another reason for hunting arose within Sancha: hate for the monsters. She was never the same since. Personality:Sancha is a hardheaded, tough girl. It is hard to persuade her to do something beyond what she wants to do. She enjoys masculine things, to the point where her brothers have nearly considered her to actually want to be a man. Yet, that was never the case. Even as a child, Sancha enjoyed playing with Legos, cars, and building things than playing house with a bunch of Barbies. To this day, Sancha can repair things, even better than her brothers. She enjoys projects where she can put things together or take things apart. She loves physical activities, no matter what they might be. Sancha can be extremely competitive when she wants to be. She will often strive to be the best, even though she knows she can't always be perfect. Sancha relishes the hunt, whether it be of animals or supernatural creatures. She enjoys the feeling of her slow-fast moving heart, the cold sweat of waiting, the lunge, and then the kill. Finally, Sancha is the type of person who never forgets and can hold grudges. It is advised to never make this girl angry, because she will get you back. Username:Evoblack
In the land of ice and snow, she lives alone in her frozen heart.
"Det er tid for å la," said a voice, from the other side of her door. "Du går glipp av flyet ditt, hvis du ikke travelt."
"Ja, jeg kommer," she answered, narrowing her eyes. The young woman closed the lid upon her pale blue suitcase. At the impact, she slammed her eyes shut. Some of her pale blonde hair swung forward to kiss the fair skin of her face. Her guardian--or those of her and her sister, to be precise--thought it would be a good idea for the two girls to leave the country, to do something else. The young woman, her name Ilsa, slipped her slender, pale fingers through the handle of her suitcase. Ilsa lifted the suitcase and rested it upon the floor. With that, she sank onto her bed and glanced around at her room.
It was sparsely decorated, but what decoration there was was carefully chosen. The walls were a pale blue, her favorite color; the windows were lined by snow white lace curtains; the floor was a plush, stainless white. Ilsa had made snowflakes to line her walls here and there. The girl desperately loved winter and missed it when it left. She figured the best way to prevent her missing it was to keep it around as much as she could. Their guardian, Gustav, had taken in the sisters after their parents' death. Their parents had perished in a boating accident only three years earlier. They were wealthy people, who made their business in the fishing industry. Gustav had been one of their loyalest servants and lifelong friend of their father's. Ilsa did not know why Gustav felt the need to send her and her sister away to Disney World. And in America, no less! Perhaps it had something to do with the amount of time Ilsa spent, secluded in her room. Ilsa still had not recovered from her parents' passing. However, it was not the only reason she secluded herself in her room. That reason was something Ilsa hated to think about, the madness behind her thoughts that she could protect her little sister by ignoring her and shutting herself away. Ilsa dreaded the long flight because she would be forced to be around her sister, which could prove horrible. Ilsa covered her eyes with her pale hands, forcing herself to breathe.
Slowly. In and out. In and out. In and out. She had to keep it together, for her sister. She had to control her feelings, conceal everything from view, and not feel for her sister. For if she revealed anything, it could mean the end of her family.
"Ilsa! Skynd deg opp," called Gustav's voice from the other side of the door. "Du kommer til å bli sent."
"Jeg kommer, Gustav," Ilsa called back.
With that, Ilsa looped her fingers through her suitcase's handle, lifted it, and walked to the door. All the time, dread settled deep into the pit of her stomach.
She was beautiful and she was graceful, but she was ice-shining, glittering ice.
-It's time for you to leave. You'll miss your plane, if you don't hurry. -Yes, I'm coming. -Ilsa! Hurry up. You're going to be late. -I'm coming, Gustav.
Posted: Thu May 29, 2014 5:51 am
Nevermore Lyricist -- Ravenna Allan (a.k.a. Poe) SweetXXXPerfectionist XXXCreativeXXXDramatic
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